Lighthouse
by Bramling
Summary: The aftermath of war is a time for healing, rebuilding and finding light within the darkness - but how are there still so many secrets and why is Hogwarts more dangerous than ever before? Hermione centric, focusing on overcoming trauma, social stigma and trying to salvage a life worth living. Will contain dark themes and trigger warnings ahead of relevant chapters. Slow burn SS/HG.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - My first Fic in a very long time. This story will eventually tackle some dark themes and trigger warnings will be placed ahead of relevant chapters, without trying to give away too much.**

**June 9th 1998:**

Pain. Her first thought upon waking was white hot, blistering pain. Her second and somewhat begrudging thought was that Scotland was supposed to be dull and overcast. The sun had barely risen but already bands of light were streaming through the windows and setting the room aglow. Another day, in another lifetime, Hermione might have thrown the bed covers over her face to try and capture a few extra minutes of slumber; or at the very least conjured some thicker curtains to keep the rays at bay. Such attempts would be fruitless on this morning, however. If sleep had mostly evaded her for the past eight hours, no doubt the next thirty minutes wouldn't be any different.

She cast a very quiet tempus charm. Quarter past five. Enough time to sneak down to the dungeons and collect what she required, but she'd have to be quick; the castle would be a hive of activity straight after breakfast. Jaw clenched, she steeled herself for the inevitable wave of pain and nausea that would come with standing up. It took longer to pass than last time, not a good sign, surely.

Hermione looked around the unfamiliar dormitory, checking for other signs of life. Gentle breathing and snores came from all angles, she was pleased to notice. She pulled her faithful beaded bag from under her pillow and wordlessly summoned a change of clothes for the day, hesitating when a pair of jeans and t shirt landed in her lap. Comfort was the name of the game today, she told herself whilst sending the denims back into the dark depths of the bag. She chose instead a pair of well worn black leggings and long, baggy dress which came almost to her knees. After realising she was shivering slightly, she shrugged on a cardigan too. Yes, a warm and sunny day had dawned, but it was an old, draughty castle that still had countless windows missing and holes in its ancient walls. THAT was why she was shaking! She almost managed to convince herself.

With one final, silent spell sent at her bed, she tiptoed from the room.

Padding out of earshot of any sleeping guest of the castle, she paused in a deserted corridor to pull on her shoes. Bracing against a wall, she found she couldn't bend over all the way to ease her feet in and on throwing her head back in frustration, realised she was slightly out of breath. She cursed her own naivety; she would never manage this task if she couldn't get her own bloody shoes on!

"I say! Are you quite alright, young lady? Would you like me to send for assistance?"

The voice, although quiet, startled Hermione in the silence of the deserted corridor. With rambling excuses and apologies, she thanked the kindly portrait with all the fervour she could muster. The jolt of adrenaline from the shock gave all she needed to press on towards her destination, leaving the blasted shoes where they lay.

The castle was large, nobody who has visited Hogwarts or knew anything of it would say differently. Hermione marvelled how she used to get from one class to another so quickly when a short walk to the dungeons seemed to be taking a lifetime.

She quickly tried to distract herself with an academic problem or riddle to make her mind focus on anything other than the terrible, gut wrenching pain she was in.

"_Think, think, think. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt. Come on. Distract Yourself. Recite a book. No, too easy. Think about arithmancy probl… _**_NO!_**_"_

She stopped dead in her tracks. No, not that one. She thought of that yesterday, to distract herself from… never mind.

"_Ok, book recital it is."_

She tried to smile as she thought of the front cover of Hogwarts: A History in her mind's eye. That will do.

Hermione rounded the last corner and spied the thick, heavy door to the potions classroom. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to cry, although whether it was from the pain or from sheer relief, she couldn't guess.

The hard part was truly over, she realised. Professor Slughorn was not as strict as his predecessor and a couple of accio charms pointed in the general direction of the store cupboard, had every single potion she had wanted whizzing towards her grateful, open hands. She had already downed two vials before drawing breath.

She sighed happily as the pain relief potion took hold and straightened her stance. Nobody would be able to guess a thing! She stowed away enough pain reliever to get through two days, she imagined. If the symptoms hadn't started to subside, she'd need to get brewing. But that was another problem for another day.

Another tempus charm showed that half an hour had passed since she got up. She'd be in the Great Hall just in time to blend in with the early risers.

_**One month earlier:**_

**May 9th 1998:**

"Oh come on 'Mione! I bet we've only seen you three or four times in the past week! She's not even at dinner and stuff, is she Harry?"

Ron's eyes met his best friend's, filled with hidden pleas to back him up. In response, Harry's own eyes drifted over to Hermione, who was focusing very hard on the list she was writing. Not wanting to take sides, he mulled over his answer carefully before speaking.

"You know what, after months of surviving on berries and those tiny fish we could catch, I'm surprised any of us can even drag ourselves away from the table!"

Ron, clearly displeased with the attempted change of subject, gave a raised eyebrow in response before rounding back on the woman before him.

"Seriously babe. We need to get the castle back on its feet. You know most of the order won't leave until it's back the way it was. Including Mum and Dad, so I can't go home either. And I'm sick of being here now, I want to start living my life. And you know you're the cleverest person here, I bet you could do loads to help. We'd be loads quicker if you came and helped us with the rebuilding!"

Ron finished his rambling with an awkward shrug of his shoulders.

"Ron! I AM helping, just not doing the same things as you. We don't have to be joined at the hip all the time! Besides, you have plenty of hands on deck already!"

"I know you are, but…"

"Look, I've got to go. I'll catch you both later". Hermione punctuated her sentence with one last flourish of her quill, before shoving both that and the parchment she had been scribbling on into her bag. She quickly left the room without a glance at either of them.

Harry looked at his best friend and nodded towards the door through which she had left. They both stood and lazily strolled through it, into the courtyard beyond. Once clear of the building's shadow, Harry raised his face to the sun and closed his eyes, thinking for the hundredth time that week how grateful he was to be alive.

"What was it you said again Harry?" Ron said with a sigh. "Tell her how you feel, Ron. Tell her you want to spend time with her, Ron. Yeah great advice mate. T'riffic".

A cloud moved in front of the sun, and Harry reluctantly opened his eyes before answering. "Yeah tell her how you feel – not tell her she's not pulling her weight!"

"You know I didn't mean for it to come out like that! I just miss her! And you know I'm not good with all the mushy stuff!"

They altered their course around a particularly large pile of rubble and stepped once more into a patch of dazzling sunlight.

"Maybe, Ron… Maybe she's just struggling with it all. We all cope with things differently. She might just not want to be here. A lot of people died." Harry paused and looked around him, spying the very place Tom Riddle's body fell. It was an image that would be burned in his mind forever. He took a deep breath before continuing.

"You know they found another body under some debris yesterday? A death eater I think, but still. She doesn't want to be an auror like we do. She's had enough of checking for curses and identifying corpses. I don't blame her to be honest."

"I know mate, me either. She's just… she's the one that kept us going. You know what I mean? Even my mum is here helping with all the building work and she lost… This is where…"

Ron suddenly looked away, blinking furiously. Harry noticed a particularly interesting scuff mark on his trainers to stare at while waiting for Ron to carry on.

"It's just weird that she's not bossing us around, I suppose. I thought we'd have colour coded to-do lists from her, and have her moan when we're saying the incantations wrong."

They both shared a small smile, the sudden sadness at the memory of Ron's lost brother forgotten for a moment. They walked through the archway where two huge front doors used to hang, sharing tales of happier times.

By the time Harry and Ron had reached the great hall, they were both chuckling at the memory of charmed, talking homework planners. They hesitated for a moment as they looked where to sit. There were no traces of the four huge dining tables that once sat here. Instead there were dozens of smaller tables with chairs. It looked to most like an old fashioned restaurant. It had been decided, once the battle scarred, broken fragments of the tables had been cleared that these might serve as a temporary replacement. With so many volunteers being older or injured in some way, chairs were certainly easier to sit at than the old benches too.

The two boys quickly found a sea of red hair amongst the fifty-something people present and dropped into two of the empty chairs at their table. Harry reached under the table to the seat on his right and found a small, soft hand. He gave a gentle squeeze and a small smile before heaping food onto his plate.

Ron was barely following the conversation between his father and Percy. It was politics bullshit, he concluded early on. He absolutely avoided looking in George's direction, lest he catch a glimpse of the pure grief he would see there. He tore a mouthful of meat from the chicken drumstick he was holding and turned his attention to his mother, who was currently talking to Ginny. He smirked as he noticed Harry was staring at his sister although she wasn't currently speaking.

"… bless them! Cracking on with cooking for dozens of people without even batting an eye, aren't they? Is Kreacher still here, Harry?"

Unable to talk through a mouthful of mashed potato, Harry simply nodded his head a couple of times. A smile formed at Mrs Weasley's lips but didn't quite add any warmth to her brown eyes.

"Ahh that's good for him – I've often thought it was solitude that made him so cantankerous! But anyway, look at all this… I didn't realise they're sending different meals to each table! They're rushed off their feet the poor dears! And have you seen what they're sending to the hospital wing?!"

Ron tucked into his plate with added gusto, pleased that his mother was filling the silence. Even though sadness was etched into each line on her face, it was clear she had convinced herself that acting normal was the best path forward. It could have been any other morning at The Burrow.

Just as he was mopping the last of his gravy up with his fifth Yorkshire pudding, Ron suddenly felt his ears prick up and tune into the conversation once more.

"I said to Hermione, I said to her- Madam Pomfrey would have been lost without you this past week! Poppy was saying to me yesterday that she's gotten through more potions, salves and bandages since the battle than her entire time at Hogwarts, she thinks!"

"But why aren't they transferring people to St Mungo's? Surely it's better equipped than we are, especially in the middle of rebuilding a bloody castle?" Ginny asked with a frown.

"Well they have now, Ginny dear. After the dust settled and the minor injuries were treated. The only patient she has now is poor Severus. She's too scared to move him, she told me"

"Is his condition still so serious?" Harry exclaimed louder than he intended. He didn't notice Arthur and Percy's glances from the other end of the table.

Molly blanched slightly under the force of Harry's stare. She knew, like all members of the order what Severus' true motives had been during the war. Harry had seen to that almost immediately, as soon as he had discovered the absolute miracle that Nagini's bite hadn't been fatal. Harry had been his fiercest defender, telling all who needed to hear what a good man Severus was, and demanding that he deserved the very best care they could offer while he recovered.

Ginny sensed her boyfriend's concern and covered his hand with her own. "Of course it's not that serious. You went to see him yesterday, didn't you? And Madam Pomfrey said she's going to try and wake him up next week! What's he still doing here, Mum?"

Molly's gaze slid down the table to rest on her husband, who cleared his throat and carefully picked his next sentence. "The thing is Harry, he's still got a lot to recover from. Look how long I was knocked off my feet from that ruddy snake! We just want to keep him somewhere safe while he recuperates. Professor McGonagall is really keen to…"

"Why wouldn't he be safe at St Mungo's?" Harry interrupted, keen to get to the point. Arthur sighed and ran a tired hand across his face.

"Not everyone knows the full story yet Harry, and not everyone who has heard it believes it to be the truth yet. There are some people out there who want vengeance for their losses. Grief can turn to anger and… we wouldn't want that, would we?" He finished somewhat lamely.

Harry felt his face flush with rage as he considered what narrow minded people would feel that way. He was trying to fathom a response without swearing for Mrs Weasley's sake when he heard Ron's voice.

"The greasy git will be fine! Just rewind a sec, Mum. You're telling me _Hermione _has been in the hospital wing all this time, changing his bandages?" The redhead waited for his mother's response with his mouth slightly agape in disbelief.

"Heaven's no! Do you think Severus would let anyone near him but Poppy? She's been brewing, I think! Horace has been convalescing on the east coast and I don't think anyone else has offered." Molly followed her words with a questioning brow.

In lieu of an explanation, Ron pushed his chair back with a screech and a hurried farewell before briskly walking out. A moment of silence fell upon the table before Molly attached a smile she hoped looked genuine before asking sweetly "Harry dear, would you like some treacle tart? The house elves clearly know it's your favourite!"

The doors to the hospital wing swung open, disturbing the silence of the deserted ward. A mop of bushy brown hair obscured any facial features as Ron spotted Hermione bent over stocking some shelves with dozens of small bottles.

"There you are!" Ron boomed from the other end of the room.

She looked up, startled before pressing a small finger to her lips and nodding towards patterned curtains obscuring a bed from view. She rose and walked quickly to meet Ron as close to the door as possible. As she drew near, Ron grinned widely.

"Been looking _everywhere_ for you" he proudly exclaimed.

She stood before him, just out of arm's reach and nervously picked at the stitching on her sleeve.

"What's up?" She asked, not quite looking him in the eye.

Ron's smile faltered and reached for her hand. His fingers didn't connect before Hermione pulled her arm back abruptly, taking a step away as she did so.

"Are you avoiding me?" he asked in a small voice.

"What…?" She tried to formulate a response without success; just managing to stammer without words.

"It's ok, you know; things don't have to be awkward. We were in the middle of a battle for God's sake".

Hermione's head was swimming. True, the lack of sleep might be catching up with her at long last and her body hadn't had decent nourishment in months. She couldn't follow his train of thought at all and finally voiced her confusion.

"What are you on about?" She asked in a hushed voice.

Ron's brows knitted together at her tone, his own voice lowering as he heard slight movement from the direction of Madam Pomfrey's office.

"Us. You and me. I'm just saying I don't expect anything from you, even you did kiss me back… You don't have to hide away from me…". He dropped his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck.

At one time, the familiar gesture might have sparked affection in Hermione's mind. Instead it fuelled her annoyance.

"The world doesn't revolve around you, Ronald" She retorted in an icy tone. "I'm busy, so if you don't mind.." Her eyes shot pointedly towards the door through which he'd just arrived.

He clamped his teeth as a red flush spread over his cheeks. Standing tall, Ron swept together the last of his pride, but couldn't help the small inflection that turned his statement into a question.

"Fine, I'm guessing we're over then…?"

The brown eyes that met his had no warmth as she replied with no emotion.

"We never even started"

**One month later**

**June 10th 1998:**

She was completing her weekly stock check in Madam Pomfrey's vast cupboards, trying to focus on cataloguing the vials present. Hermione was pleased she was helping in the hospital wing. Not that there were any patients that needed her assistance right now, but whatever stocks hadn't been destroyed in the battle had been depleted helping the injured.

Truthfully, she liked the peace and quiet that potion making had afforded her. It had been a good distraction. She needed a distraction now. The pain relief potion she had hoped would last two days had barely lasted twenty-four hours and she noticed her hands were starting to shake.

She lifted the back of one trembling hand to wipe away beads of sweat upon her forehead. She would have to make excuses tomorrow and go back. She was getting worse, not better. The orange sun setting over the distant green hills told her it was too late to go today, and she cursed her own foolishness.

Sitting cross legged on the floor near the open cupboard, Hermione realised with a start that a dose of dreamless sleep would work in lieu of a pain reliever potion. She was just wondering why her foggy brain hadn't thought of the simple compromise thus far when Madam Pomfrey's voice interrupted her musings.

"Come now Severus, it's only been five weeks; you were unconscious for nearly two of those"

"Exactly" came the curt reply. "That's more sleep than I've had in years. I will manage to complete my recovery quite well in the privacy of my quarters, thank you."

The floral curtain surrounding the very end bed was suddenly thrown open and the tall, thin frame of Severus Snape stalked towards the door, although much slower and more carefully than she remembered.

His dark eyes swept over her and he passed, then jerked back in a double take; finally coming to a halt a few feet from where she sat.

He said nothing, but turned his gaze to the older woman who had caught up with him.

"Ah yes, Miss Granger here has been helping me replenish our potion stocks, Severus. Surely you've noticed her around the ward?" The matron's tone was almost apologetic, although expecting a reprimand for recruiting a student.

"And how many points have you awarded to Gryffindor, Poppy?" Severus sarcastically replied as he looked to continue walking without addressing the young woman on the floor.

He stopped short as he appraised her a second time. Hermione, feeling awkward under his searching gaze shifted uncomfortably and turned her attention back to the vials in her hand.

"Poppy I do have concerns…" he began, still looking intently. "How many potions have been contaminated with Dragon Pox or Sweating Sickness or whatever it is Miss Granger is suffering from…?"

Hermione's head shot up, fear forming a tight knot in her stomach. He suspected. She needed to get away before they looked any closer. She scrambled to her feet, trying to ignore both the creeping feeling of anxiety and the searing flashes of agony, lest she give anything further away.

"Hermione! You look frightful! Whatever is the matter, dear? Why didn't you say anything?" Madam Pomfrey stepped forward reaching out a kind hand that Hermione dodged.

"I'm fine, just not sleeping. Don't think anyone is really, are they? Must be catching up at last. Might go get my head down now actually. Yes, that's a good idea. Bye Madam Pomfrey, Professor."

She whirled on the spot, planning to bolt for the door and the sanctuary of her bed, or the closest bathroom. She body stopped moving, but the room did not. Spinning, spinning while muffled voices called her name. They sounded so far away. Everything was spinning. Faster and faster until there was nothing but whiteness.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N – Trigger warning – there is mention of abortion in this chapter.**

**June 11th 1998:**

She was floating. She was utterly weightless and flying through clouds. Somewhere above her, a soft, motherly voice was calling her name. She tried to carry on flying; it was nice here and she wasn't ready to go back yet. This wasn't scary like broomsticks were; she wasn't relying on a big stick to keep her airborne. It was all her. And yet the more she thought about it, the heavier she became; sinking and sinking further down.

The voice was getting closer and closer, and she realised as she lifted heavy lids that it had all been a dream. Hermione became aware of several things at once. Stiff white sheets were scratching her knees; she could smell mint humbugs, and the sharp stabbing pain in her lower abdomen had been replaced with a dull ache.

The last revelation had her eyes springing open in surprise as both hands came to rest instinctively upon her stomach.

"Easy now, don't move too quickly." Madam Pomfey's voice had adopted the gentle, hushed tones she reserved for the most wretched patients. Hermione realised she was in the hospital wing as she simultaneously remembered her last moments of consciousness.

She stole a look at the matron and confirmed her suspicions. She knew. And Professor Snape was here, that meant he probably knew too. Shame bubbled up inside her and her eyes grew hot with tears she tried to blink away.

"So… do you want to tell me what happened…?" Madam Pomfrey began carefully. A single tear escaped the young woman's eye and rolled quickly down her cheek before it was hastily brushed away.

"At least tell me who did this to you then, hmm?" Her second attempt brought forth more tears, and several gut wrenching sobs and almost broke Poppy's heart. Decades of treating mild colds and sickness bugs, quidditch injuries and acne hadn't prepared her for the past year. And this was about to be the cherry on top, she knew.

She sucked in a breath and clutched her girl's hand between her own. She thought fleetingly how young and soft her hands felt next to her own worn, chapped skin. Madam Pomfrey took another deep breath to ensure she wouldn't join the girl by dissolving into tears before she tried a third and final time.

"Hermione… I can guess what's got you in this state. You've lost an awful lot of blood and you'd developed sepsis by the time you collapsed. That's blood poisoning you know. I've patched you up and your fever has broken now; there shouldn't be any lasting side effects, I don't think. You're going to be fine poppet….

But I need you to tell me what happened in case there's something I've missed. You don't want to get through a war to be bested by an infection now, do you?"

A few minutes passed; silence broken only by the young woman's sobs. Poppy gave her handkerchief and then sat still until there were no more tears to fall, and eventually Hermione's breathing settled.

Hiding her face with her free hand, she whispered in between sniffs.

"I didn't want to go to St Mungo's…"

**Three days earlier - June 8****th**** 1998**

She pulled her hood tightly around her face. She knew she looked ridiculous in the heat of the day, but she didn't want to rely on the spells she had cast to keep herself hidden. What the Prophet would give for a photo of one of the battle survivors. Especially a member of the Order.

She stared resolutely at the floor of Diagon Alley and she briskly walked as fast as she could without running. It had only been a few weeks since the fall of Voldemort's dark regime, but already there were new businesses settling into the empty units. The thought should have made Hermione happy, but today it only served to increase her paranoia.

She reached the corner she'd been searching for and fought the urge to check over her shoulder before turning. She had to stop acting so suspicious.

At this point, she could stare at the floor no longer. She hadn't been here before and had to pay attention; 37a Knockturn Alley was the address she'd found. The leaflet had been ancient though, the establishment might have closed before she was even born. Hermione had all but convinced herself to go home when she spotted a tattered wooden sign hanging over a doorwell. It read _Madam Crane_. She was here.

The next 90 minutes were the worst of her relatively short life. Worse than Malfoy Manor, than losing her parents to their new memories. Worse than seeing the dead bodies lined up in the Great Hall.

Upon reflection, she realised there was naught but bad omens from the moment she'd set put inside. Madam Crane, as she'd introduced herself, had been the first female goblin Hermione had ever met, but had made the likes of Griphook seem like a fairy princess.

She'd taken payment upfront, an extortionate figure by all accounts. All business, no emotion. Hermione's grief-stricken tears were met with indifference at best and a single, rough tissue. The goblin had barely any English, but each word uttered had been a dagger in Hermione's heart. She hadn't even felt the physical pain until afterwards. Was she numbed by magic or her own emotions? She would never know.

Hermione willed each second to pass quicker than the last; fingers gripping the sides of the battered table until her knuckles were white. She tried distracting herself with an Arithmancy problem she'd come across, trying to focus on calculations rather than the goblin's strong hands reaching for her next instrument. Just as she thought she could take no more, she heard a grunt and three words that finally broke her.

"_Done. All gone."_

**June 11th 1998:**

"I didn't want to go to St Mungo's" Hermione whispered. "I keep hearing how it's full of press and so understaffed and over capacity that people are waiting for days…"

She wiped her sore eyes on the handkerchief she'd been clutching for dear life and stole a glance at the older woman. Poppy forced a small smile and nodded for the younger girl to continue.

"I'd heard about this… woman… who deals with… she specialises in… that area. And so I said I was nipping to get supplies from Diagon Alley…And I went to see her and…" She stammered for a moment, struggling to find words for the next part of her tale.

"And I know that you know what happened… I can tell by your face. And… and… she had a look. And she said she could just deal with it there and then. And she did…"

At this point, her body found a new reservoir of tears to let forth, as the full reality of the past few days hit with full force. It was at this moment that the sound of the hospital doors opening was heard by them both. Poppy jumped to her feet, hastily wiping her own eyes. With a final pat on her head, she ducked around the curtain, only to reappear a minute later with Professor McGonagall and Molly Weasley in tow.

Hermione suppressed a groan. She didn't want to see anyone. She didn't want anyone to know, ever. She ran a clammy hand over her face and fixed a watery smile upon her face. Maybe they hadn't heard yet.

Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Molly pushing past her and enveloping Hermione into a bone crushing, bosom smothering embrace.

"Oh you silly girl! What on earth have you done to yourself? Why did you go through all of this alone?" Molly held Hermione's chin firmly in her hand, as if searching for answers in Hermione's eyes herself. When she was given no answer, she continued.

"You know you wouldn't have been left alone! Ron would have married you, you know. He still will, I'm sure! You two have these little spats, but you always make up! You can move in with us until the pair of you get settled – there's no rush at all! Oh I just wish you had said something before!"

Hermione pulled her face free of Mrs Weasley's grasp and looked towards Madam Pomfrey. "What have you told her? Why is she here?" She asked, not caring how rude she sounded.

Professor McGonagall spared her from answering by addressing Hermione directly.

"It was me. After Poppy here informed me of your… erm… condition, I thought you would want a mother's presence to console you. I understand you own mother is still in Australia, yes? I'm very sorry if I've upset you further Miss Granger, I assure you, I was merely trying to help."

Hermione wanted to accept her apology, she could see how genuine it was and how guilty her professor felt for causing more distress. However, she couldn't quite find her voice and soon enough, Molly was filling the silence once more; drowning out the sound of the hospital door opening once more.

"Now I expect you're feeling guilty and ashamed right now my love and you need to stop it straight away. We all make mistakes and you're only human. Now, I'll fetch Ron and we can all talk this through together." Molly was rolling her sleeves to her elbows, clearly intent on taking charge in the crisis at hand. Hermione knew she had to cut her off quickly before she hit her full stride.

"I'm not telling Ron… or Harry… or anyone" she said quietly.

Molly exhaled, frowning a little. Her friendly façade cracked ever so slightly. "You have to, Hermione. He has a right".

Hermione sighed, dreading the next words she was about to say.

"No, Mrs Weasley, he doesn't…"

The caring mother hen before her was rapidly dissolving into a protective mother bear, Mrs Weasley's face flushed red as she glanced at the other women present before replying.

"Hermione, you did all of this" She gestured wildly over the young girl's stomach "without telling him. It would have been his child and now it's gone before he ever knew about it. Before he ever had a chance to… He… It was _his baby_, Hermione."

Hermione closed her eyes, not wanting to see the reaction to her next sentence. She mustered all her courage and held back all her tears, but she couldn't stop her voice from cracking as she whispered, "No. It wasn't".

Professor Snape felt Molly's wave of rage even from behind the privacy curtains set up around the patient's bed. He rolled his eyes with sheer disdain as he weighed up his options; nobody had seen him yet and he could easily retreat from the soap opera storyline unfolding before him. Then again, the hospital wing was one of the first areas of the castle repaired, he wouldn't want it obliterated in a violent duel.

Honestly, he'd lived trough two wars, served two cruel masters and survived the near fatal bite of that fucking snake. He could not be arsed to break this up.

He did owe her though. Granger. She'd been the one to discover his almost lifeless form. On her way to retrieve his body for a proper burial. How bloody noble. Her quick hands and endless bag of potions had pulled him from the brink of death. Surely if he prevented the Weasley woman from ripping her limb from limb, they could call it quits.

Mind made up he ripped open the curtain and silenced the Weasley matriarch with a non verbal spell whilst she was halfway through what he supposed was the word 'harlot'. Her face was so red it almost matched the bristled mane surrounding her head and as she opened and closed her mouth a few times to no avail, her face, impossibly, got closer to a shade of purple.

"Mrs Weasley, it may have escaped your attention that you are standing in the middle of the hospital wing, where we would expect a certain standard of behaviour. As you seem incapable of such at this moment, I would suggest vacating the immediate area.

Furthermore, if you cannot find yourself able to act with dignity and… discretion, I would ask you to leave the castle grounds entirely.

Minerva, please escort Mrs Weasley back to her bed chamber. The silencing charm will be lifted once she is safely inside. Then if you would be so kind as to meet me in my quarters?"

McGonagall, he was pleasantly surprised to see, followed his instruction without question. She tried to catch Granger's eye unsuccessfully for a couple of moments before steering the woman out by her elbow in silence.

"Poppy, could you give us a moment please?"

The matron looked down at the bed for a moment; the girl was hiding her face in her hands, sobbing silently. She gave her ankle a gentle squeeze and stepped away, closing the curtains neatly in place.

Severus hesitated for a moment. What could he possibly say to a girl who got knocked up, had a botched, back alley abortion and had to tell her boyfriend's mum it wasn't his bastard child after all? He was too old for this shit. He cleared his throat.

"It seems you don't have dragon pox after all Miss Granger."

She wiped her cheeks and stared at the ceiling, without covering her face once more.

"I believe a know it all such as yourself would be familiar with certain side affects of the potions you've been given, particularly the inability to mix blood replenishing potions with dreamless sleep. Some years ago, I began to experiment with different variations and developed this solution."

He placed a small vial of midnight blue liquid on the table top angled over her legs.

"I assure you, although not yet released and patented, it's quite safe. And if the encounter I've just witnessed is anything to go by, I imagine this will be your only path to sleep this evening. Goodnight."

Without waiting for a response, he turned abruptly on his heel and made to leave the ward. As he pulled the curtain closed once more, he heard the stopper of the vial open, followed by a whispered "Thank you".

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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - Happy New Year! Thank you to the kind souls who have followed this story and left such lovely reviews! **

**June 11****th**** 1998**

The door closed softly. Severus rested his forehead against the ancient, dark wood with a sigh.

"_Well the peace and quiet lasted long." _He said softly. He slowly moved to his favourite armchair and sank into the soft brown leather that moulded to his shape.

Hermione fucking Granger, of all people; seeing at least two blokes at once. It didn't fit right with her noble do-gooder personality, and surely, she was too switched on to forget a contraceptive potion? Then again, war has changed us all, he thought, as he caught sight of his own reflection in the dusty mirror hanging above the fireplace. He appraised his own reflection with a sneer, trying to distract himself from thoughts of how many lives had been changed forever, by looking around the rest of the room.

Truthfully, he was relieved to call the space his own once more. These had been his quarters for over 15 years, and they were the only true home he'd ever known. He remembered his first night here with absolute clarity. Twenty-one years old and wracked with grief, with guilt; how many nights had he spent chasing sleep in a haze of depression and self-loathing?

It had dulled after a couple of years; the routine of teaching had been a calming influence as had the tentative interactions with his colleagues. At first, he was treated with suspicion and held at arm's length by the rest of the teaching staff, Dumbledore included. But then eventually the rumours of his previous wrong doings had faded in their minds; his desire for solitude had weakened and bonds of careful friendship were formed.

It had hurt Severus more than he cared to admit when he saw such anger and disdain in their eyes over the past few months. With each curse the Carrows cast, with every injury inflicted, he knew the other teachers blamed him. For almost ten months he had locked himself away in the headmaster's unfamiliar, grand living quarters at every opportunity to hide from their accusing glares.

It was a relief when he realised he wouldn't have to return to that post again, that Minerva could finally take her rightful position as headmistress and he could slink back to the dungeons where there was little to disturb him. Well, if she'd take him back as potions master, he supposed.

He looked at the thin sheet of dust that lay on every surface. He'd had no use of the room when he was headmaster, and he couldn't outwardly display anything but gratitude to the Dark Lord for his promotion. Returning to his old quarters periodically for a break from his spy persona probably wouldn't have curried much favour. Still, a couple of spells and the small living space with adjourning bedroom and en-suite would be spotless in seconds. One more cast at the large black trunk standing in the centre of the floor space, and he would be settled completely.

It seemed like tempting fate to start before confirming he still had a job, he told himself. While he received all the medical assistance and care he'd needed to get back on his feet, that could be the extent of their kindness – he could be out on his ear before the end of the day. As though his thoughts had summoned her directly, a series of short, sharp raps on the door announced that he would shortly find out.

With a deep inhale, he carefully rose to his feet; muscles still tight and achy from lying in bed for over a month. He opened the door wide, standing aside to let the grey-haired witch through. Minerva, however, stayed in the corridor, exclaiming loudly;

"Here you are, Severus! I've been looking for you all over!"

Severus felt his eyebrows draw together in a frown as he tried to recall their conversation in the hospital wing.

"I believe I requested you to meet in my quarters, Minerva, didn't I?"

"Yes, not your _former _quarters?"

He noted her sharp tone and wondered if perhaps the early hours of the morning, following a medical emergency concerning the woman's favourite student would be the right time for this conversation. Still, he has no other excuse for bringing her down here.

"Perhaps you'd like to come in and join me for a drink?"

"Well, it had better be a strong one" was the surprising reply as she bustled straight into the room and into the large armchair Severus had just vacated.

Waving his wand in the direction of his trunk, he wordlessly summoned a decanter of whiskey and two sturdy glass tumblers. With a further flourish, the decanter magically poured a hearty measure into both glasses before floating away to rest on the dusty coffee table in between them. One final spell was murmured softly, and two ice cubes were conjured, falling into the separate glasses with such precision that not a drop of the amber liquid spilled.

Minerva grasped her glass immediately, glad to have something to occupy her hands. She raised it slightly, a tight smile on her face.

"To your good health" she declared before taking a small mouthful.

Severus took a long swig without returning the sentiment or giving any indication he had even heard her; he was more nervous about this conversation that he was prepared to admit to himself. When he finally lifted his gaze towards his colleague, he noted that she too, looked quite uneasy. Perhaps she was nervous he'd become angry when she sacked him. He was just about to bite the bullet and ask her if he still had a job when she got there first.

Hermione woke with a plan already half formed in her mind. Madam Pomfrey's healing prowess had worked miracles on her broken body, but it was a full night of deep sleep, undisturbed by nightmares or pain that had done the most for her state of mind.

She was sure that most of the castle knew her secret by now. It would raise some questions she couldn't imagine answering, and she'd hear opinions she didn't care about. She didn't know what was worse, the pity in Madam Pomfrey's face or the disgust in Mrs Weasley's. Still, if she could hide from Voldemort, his death eaters and the entire Ministry for the best part of the year, there's no reason she couldn't slip away now. She just had to find her clothes, her wand and her beaded bag and get down to the gates so she could apparate.

As luck would have it, her bag and wand were carefully stowed away in the small white cabinet next to her bed; bingo! She dressed with minimal difficulty and was soon sneaking through the corridors with her heart hammering in her chest. She wasn't sure why she was so terrified of bumping into someone she knew, but she positive she'd rather face Voldemort himself right now than a member of the Weasley Family.

The sweet relief of finally crossing through the vast gates at the edge of the grounds did nothing to curb her anxiety. Just as she was about to apparate, a vivid flashback came from nowhere of kneeling over Ron after he'd splinched himself. There was so much blood. Blood. She could still smell it, the tangy, metallic stench that overpowered everything. Blood on her hands as she tried to apply dittany on the open wounds. Her hands in under bathwater, scrubbing and scrubbing, the water slowly turning brown.

Image after image, her brain replayed them all, torturing her. As she sank to her knees, she dug the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, as though she could push the memories right out of her head.

"I'm sorry Severus, I'm so very sorry."

This was it, he was sure. Minerva about to follow this with excuses about the governors or the ministry forcing her hand. He set his jaw and waited for the inevitable dismissal from the only job he'd ever had. He pulled his face into a mask of indifference and inclined his head for her to continue. Years of hiding his true thoughts and emotions prevented him from reacting when he saw tears brimming in the professor's eyes. He didn't think he'd seen her cry before, how strange.

"I knew the position you held, how hard you'd worked to win it. You've basically given your entire adult life to this school and your double life. Albus trusted you and… and"

Her voice faltered and she paused for a moment to dab her eyes lightly upon the sleeves of her robes before continuing.

"Albus trusted you and I… I should have trusted you both. He was the cleverest man I'd ever met and of course he'd played everyone. I was blinded by grief and I didn't stop to consider you were just playing the role he had always asked you to. I know you must hate us all for not standing by you, but I just wanted you to… to know… how truly so- so- sorry I am."

The end of her short outburst was peppered with hiccoughs as she finally lost the battle of holding back her sobs. Severus, for his part, was so stunned by her heartfelt words that he resembled a living statue, betrayed only by intermittent blinking. Minerva's face crumpled as she took his silence for indifference and he quickly tried to formulate a response.

With a sigh he placed his glass beside the decanter on the coffee table and leaned forward, placing his elbows on top of his knees and clasping his hands together.

"Minerva," he began softly, "If you had known the truth, I wouldn't have been playing my role well enough. And Dumbledore and I both accepted that it was unlikely for me to survive in the long run. I think he fully intended for me to be… solitary, towards the end so that I would be more…"

"So that you would have nothing to bloody live for! He used you, just like he used Potter!" Minerva cut across him angrily, tears replaced for the moment by fiery rage.

"We were pawns in a much bigger game" Severus detested the hint of sadness he heard in his own voice. "If he were more sentimental, if he had prioritised our lives, how many others would have died? We were at war. And he was a General."

"And you're being a bleeding martyr Severus. Is that what this is? Packed and ready to go and find the next good cause to die for?" She raised an accusing eyebrow, cheeks flushed and nostrils flaring.

"No I… I didn't like to presume… I…."

"Well I thought you had more sense Severus, really, I did. You've gone from one of the only structurally sound parts of the castle into one of the most unsafe! Poor Poppy has spent all this time patching you up, for you to carelessly kill yourself under a few tonnes of old rubble! A fine example for a Headmaster to set!"

"I'm not Headmaster!" Severus spluttered, "He's dead now, I don't have to… YOU'RE Head now, aren't you?"

"No, Severus, one generally submits a letter of resignation to leave a post of employment. I will assume your owl has been lost in the chaos, as I can't imagine you're confusing me with Sybil Trelawney?"

A person less familiar with the man might have taken his stony glare as threatening, but Minerva McGonagall could see his brain working furiously to meet her sarcasm with an equally cutting snide remark. Before the words could leave his mouth, however, she flicked her wand over the decanter, and it began to refill both their glasses.

"Are you leaving me to co-ordinate the entire rebuild as well? And here I was, working day and night to hold down the fort in the hopes of a rest when _you_ were finally back on your feet. Have you seen how battered the place is? The only thing keeping it standing at the moment is Filius' spell work! There's no way we'll be ready in time for September as it is! And if we were, we've hardly got any bloody staff! And now you're deserting me too!"

"Minerva…"

"Oh I know! You've earned a rest. You want a holiday. You never liked teaching in the first place, and you've been miserable here for nearly twenty years! I understand Severus! You deserve whatever life you want to build for yourself, and I won't stand in your way. Just don't be a stranger, you know you'll always be welcome here."

She ended with a small smile and leaned forward slightly to place her hand on top of one of his. She squeezed slightly and pulled back, supressing the urge to envelope him in a motherly embrace.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments whilst the weight of Minerva's words settled.

"I could be… _persuaded_ to consider returning to my potions post… If it would be of any assistance to you" He said slyly.

Minerva blinked in surprise before the corner of her mouth twitched. She glanced at his trunk and her face broke into a warm grin.

"I wasn't born yesterday you know. '_Persuaded'_ indeed! You could have just _asked_ for your old job back, you realise?"

"Ahh but that would involve getting a word in edgeways, first," he shot back, but with no venom in his voice.

"It seems Poppy has fixed your sense of humour while you've been in her care, hmm?"

Severus exhaled quickly through his nose, almost chuckling out loud; but the mention of the Hogwarts matron brought forth thoughts of her latest patient. The thought seemed to have simultaneously struck Minerva too, and their friendly banter was immediately quenched.

"Come Severus, we need you housed somewhere that's not about to collapse so you can get some sleep. I imagine we're both going to need it".

Hermione was struggling to take her own advice. Breathe in for a count of four, hold it and exhale for a count of four. Was it four? This seemed like an awfully long time. She hadn't stopped breathing at any point, so how would breathing more make the memories go away? What would stop her heart from pounding so painfully? She had a sudden realisation that her trusty bag contained a couple of vials of calming drought and summoned one without further delay.

After downing it in one, she felt the familiar cool tingle spread throughout her body as the potion took effect. Even after all these years, she marvelled at magic. She lifted a hand, was pleased to see that it had ceased trembling, and brushed her wild hair away from her face. Her hand came away damp; her cheeks were wet, but she didn't recall crying. How strange.

She scrambled to her feet, suddenly full of purpose, and contemplated her destination. She pulled the image of the house into her mind's eye and turned on the spot, a large crack breaking the silence and she disappeared.

She reappeared in the small space between a fence and a garden shed. It had been tricky but far safer than apparating directly onto the doorstep which was in full view of the street beyond. She made a mental note to look into cloaking charms similar to those used on Grimmauld Place. They would be useful if she was to stay here for very long, but that was a task for another day.

She lightly stepped through the overgrown garden , navigating thick weeds as she neared the sliding patio doors at the rear of the modest sized house. It looked deserted from the outside; a good sign at least. A quick alohamora spell and she had the stiff doors open just enough to squeeze through and had them closed behind her again in a flash.

She let out a breath and cast every protection charm she could remember, still almost a reflex after the months of pitching their tent in a new location each morning. Once finished, she ran a hand over the familiar patterned wallpaper her mother had loved so much. She looked around the empty room and into the deserted kitchen beyond. Hermione realised that those garish flowers might be the only piece of her mother still left in the house. The thought felt like a punch in the gut, but before she could consciously turn her thoughts to something less distressing, her attention was caught by a subtle smell of something burning.

Alarm crossed her body like a crashing wave as a dozen possibilities crossed her mind. Head spinning wildly, looking for the source, she spotted a thing plume of pale grey smoke rising from her beaded bag. She panicked at the thought of losing every book, potion and survival supply contained within its depth and yanked open the clasp. Within seconds she realised there was no fire and slumped to the floor in relief. A beautifully carved wooden bookmark that had been a Christmas gift so long ago was smoking gently, but there were thankfully no flames. However, she could see a perfect, charred circle upon the glossy surface; a stark black contrast to the pale finish it lay on.

Hermione dropped her bag to the floor in disbelief as she whispered softly to herself;

_"Well the peace and quiet lasted long"._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N - Thank you to the lovely people who have reviewed/ followed this story. This weekend, I've spent a lot of time mapping out the twists and angst that will be coming up in future chapters - stay tuned!**

**June 11****th****, 1998**

With his trunk of belongings sent to one of the vacant staff suites, Severus set off for the hospital wing alongside Minerva in silence, both too lost in their own thoughts for conversation. After their frank discussion in the dungeons, an understanding and camaraderie had settled between the two of them. They were used to dealing with crises together – particularly since Harry Potter's arrival at Hogwarts – and a brisk, tense walk like this one was familiar to them both.

Without hesitation, they each pushed open one of the double doors to the wing and strode in side by side. Minerva walked towards the Matron's office in the corner of the room and rapped on the door, repeating the action when she got no reply. A moment later, a bleary eyed, slightly dishevelled Madam Pomfrey yanked the door open, stumbling into the ward beyond whilst squinting at the old clock on the wall.

"I'm so sorry Minerva, I'd just made a cup of tea and closed my eyes for a moment…!"

"Nonsense Poppy, you need a full night's sleep in a proper bed! We were just coming to check on Miss Granger, perhaps I could sit with her whilst you get some rest?"

"Thank you, that's most kind." The matron began, looking the headmistress up and down slowly, "But I think you're in greater need than I am at the moment!"

Minerva reached out and patted her arm gently, about to respond when suddenly Severus' deep voice cut across her.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt the sentimentality ladies, but at present it seems there isn't a patient here to keep either of you from your beauty sleep."

Both women looked to where he had thrown the curtains open wide around the bed that had previously held Hermione's sleeping form. Once they had seen the neatly made, vacant bed, Severus pulled back the top covers and placed his hand upon the mattress below.

"It's still a little warm, she hasn't been gone long. Poppy, when did you last check on her?"

Poppy's face had already drained of colour, and at Severus' words looked almost ready to cry.

"I… I… I was going to check on her every two hours, but she was fast asleep! A-a-and she looked so peaceful, like she wasn't thinking about… it… at all. I didn't want to wake her! I looked in around an hour or so ago I think, Severus."

She ran a tired hand over her face, which Minerva pulled away and grasped in her own.

"She's an adult Poppy, and you weren't on guard duty." She said gently, before glancing across towards Snape's impassive face.

"She's right of course, Poppy. This is a young woman capable of far more than sneaking out of bed undetected. The question of course, is why she left and where she went. That said, I'm assuming she requires no further medical assistance?"

"No, just rest." Came the quiet reply.

"Well then, it seems all our roles in this saga have come to an end. I have no wish to further involve myself in teenage love triangles, and Miss Granger is no longer in any immediate danger. I believe I have some unpacking to do. Good night to you both."

His move to get to the door was immediately blocked by Minerva, who glared at him with nostrils flaring.

"You're not bloody serious? She's upset, Severus!"

"Yes, we've just finished a war, Minerva, we're all upset."

"But she shouldn't be alone! She needs our support!"

"Well by all means fetch her dunderhead friends and a packet of tissues. Perhaps a copy of Witch Weekly? I hear they have a popular advice column. Once again, unless you have any official duties for me, _Headmistress, _I will retire to my rooms."

The grey-haired woman bristled at his words and took a few steps towards him, pointing a finger in his face.

"Yes, _Professor Snape_, I charge you with tracking down our _student_. Quick as you can please." She turned to the matron before continuing.

"Poppy dear, send word if she turns up of her own accord, won't you? Until then – go and get some proper sleep."

Before waiting for a response from either of them, Minerva turned on her heal and marched from the room without so much as a backwards glance. She had barely got ten paces down the corridor before she was almost bowled over, by the very three students she had been on her way to find.

"Ah Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Weasley, I'm so very glad to run into you. Have you seen or heard from Miss Granger in the past few hours?"

Three confused faces looked back at her as they all began to speak at once.

"Why, where is she?"

"That's why we're here, Professor."

"Is she alright, Professor?"

The headmistress raised her hands and they stopped at once.

"How much do you already understand of Miss Granger's…. _ailments?"_

This time her question was met with an awkward silence; Harry scratched the back of his neck as a pink tinge bloomed across his cheeks and Ron stared at his shoes glumly. Ginny defiantly stuck out her chin and met the professor's eye.

"Mum has already told us everything. Where is she, Professor? She needs us, she needs her friends."

"I could not agree more, Miss Weasley. However, it seems that Miss Granger has other ideas. She left the hospital wing sometime in the past hour or so. She requires no further medical attention but I'm sure you will share my _concerns _that she might be particularly fragile. Do any of you have any ideas where she could be?"

Harry's face lit up as he exclaimed "No, but I've got the Marauder's Map! It's in my rucksack, I'll fetch it!"

Ron looked up, nodding enthusiastically; "Yes Harry, brilliant!"

Ginny laced her fingers through Harry's and stopped as he started to turn away. Her voice was soft as she voiced her thoughts.

"She won't be in Hogwarts. If she's left the hospital wing, she's avoiding us. She knows we'd find her here. She's gone, properly gone. She's the cleverest person I've ever met; if she doesn't want us to find her, we won't."

Minerva surveyed the young people before her in various states of distress.

"Thank you for your glaring optimism, Miss Weasley. Gentlemen, perhaps you can retrace your hiding places from this past year, and take Miss Weasley here along to assist? Now if you'll excuse me, I need to turn my attention to the school before these old walls fall down!"

Severus hesitated in the hospital wing's doorway, listening to Minerva mollycoddle her three former students in disbelief. Those boys were the only ones in this castle to know the girl properly and they barely had a brain cell between them. Granger could second guess them in her sleep.

He couldn't believe Minerva had dumped this ridiculous task on him whilst she cleared off to look at redecorating. Plus, he couldn't blame the girl for getting away in the slightest; the wizarding world wouldn't treat her with kindness once her actions were widely known. Even after decades of debate, St Mungo's didn't offer what she'd chosen to do elsewhere and even her status as a war hero wouldn't stop the prejudice she'd now face.

Still, it wasn't so long ago he feared he wouldn't have a job; he couldn't very well refuse a direct order already. He'd have to comply, even though he had been tasked to drag her away from obscurity into a world of duplicitous whispers and snide comments. He could relate.

Suddenly a wave of inspiration struck him. He could relate. When the world hated him and he wanted to hide away from everyone who knew him, from everyone who knew his darkness, his mistakes; where did he go?

As soon as he was certain the corridor was clear, he swept out towards the headmaster's study with renewed purpose. Minutes later he stood in his now former office and pointed his wand towards a large cabinet. He took no time for sentimentality and downright _refused _to look in the direction of any of the portraits. As a piece of paper zoomed towards him, he caught it easily, scanning the words on its surface. He tucked it away inside his robes and stalked out without a second glance.

Harry watched McGonagall leave with her green robes billowing in her wake. He felt his stomach drop as he realised with a jolt that he could only really name a handful of locations they had visited whilst on the run. It was Hermione who often took the lead when apparating and it wasn't like he asked for co-ordinates when they'd arrived.

He tugged on Ginny's hand, pulling her under his arm and closing his eyes as he buried his face in her soft, red hair. The guilt was eating away at him; his best friend had been suffering horrendously and he hadn't even noticed. He'd been too busy revelling in their victory, in his renewed relationship with Ginny.

He knew without hesitation that Ginny was right – Hermione was intelligent, but also stubborn; they didn't have a hope in outwitting her. As he felt Ginny clutch him tighter, he felt a surge of affection and wondered if perhaps they needed a different approach. He stepped away from her and addressed the two freckled faces.

"Do either of you still have your D.A coin?"

Thirty minutes later, the three of them were huddled in a corner of a disused classroom, bickering.

"We can't fit much on here, it's got to be short and to the point!" Ginny said, exasperated.

"What about '_Just come back'_?" Harry said hopefully.

"How about we don't try and give her a command? Bit forceful isn't it?" Ginny replied

"What about '_We're sorry'_?" Harry suggested

Ginny looked at him in disbelief, asking "Well what are you sorry for?"

"It's just what you say, isn't it? Just makes stuff better! Oi Ron, don't look at me like that – don't hear you sharing your wisdom!" Harry shrugged.

Ginny turned to her brother with a sarcastic comment on the tip of her tongue, but she let the words go as she saw the thoughtful, sad expression on his face. She caught his eye and gave an encouraging smile instead.

"Go on, Ron. What do you think we should put?"

Hermione slid down the wall onto the dusty floor, clutching the ruined bookmark as though it would give some comfort. Through the darkness of the unlit room, she regarded the old coin where it lay, slowly scorching the carpet her mother had so meticulously vacuumed every day of her childhood. She cast a quick charm to return its temperature to normal and continued to stare from several feet away. With the same caution she'd offer a dangerous creature, she levitated the coin to the very edge of the room, placing it beside the skirting board. Not now, she told herself, now she needed to eat before she fainted.

She shuffled to her feet and into the kitchen. Without much hope, she opened each cupboard and was unsurprised when the bright moonlight showed them all to be empty. Wendall and Monica Wilkins were not the type of people to leave behind mess once they'd sold their house. She sighed and had clenched both hands into fists in frustration when a noise in the garden made her freeze.

Without hesitation she dropped to a crouch, backing frantically against the cupboard under the sink, hoping she would be hidden from the window. She realised her beaded bag was in the other room, and that she'd have to pass in front of the glass sliding doors to retrieve it or summon it. She didn't want to leave it behind, it had too many valuable things inside.

She lay flat on the kitchen floor on her tummy and tried to ignore the adrenaline coursing through her veins and making her heart pound, praying the noise was just an animal, or even the wind. Her prayers, however, were cut short when she heard the patio doors slowly slide open. It was a person, a magical person too, to get through her wards. There was no wand light either, so the intruder was trying to be stealthy and gain the element of surprise.

With that realisation, Hermione decided they were not friendly and shot several stunning and disarming spells in their direction, scrambling to her feet as she did so. She noticed each spell was blocked, so she fired a dozen more; her arm moving so fast it became a blur. Jets of light streaked through the house as spell after spell failed to meet their targets.

Suddenly, through the roar of blood pumping in her ears she heard her name in a familiar, yet angry voice.

"GRANGER! For fuck's sake, lower your wand!"

She'd never heard her former professor lose his cool and swear before, and that shock registered more strongly than her own name did. She did not move to lower her wand but did feel her jaw drop slightly as he finally illuminated the room. Severus Snape was the last person she expected to see.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione was surprised by how steady her voice seemed, the one-sided duel almost instantly brushed aside.

"Oh I thought I'd drop by for a cup of tea" came his sarcastic reply.

He stepped into the doorway of the kitchen and saw his familiar sneer for the first time. She lowered her wand instantly, suddenly embarrassed of her actions. He tutted and raised an eyebrow as he regarded her.

"So easily convinced, Miss Granger? No attempt to confirm my identity! And I expected so much more of you. Your defence teachers must have been wholly inadequate."

She stared back in mute disbelief. Surely the man was correct. The real Severus Snape wouldn't make a joke, and a self-deprecating one at that, surely! She hesitantly raised her wand once more.

"You haven't tried to identify me either, Professor"

"Touché – during Potter's first quidditch match, and his broom was cursed, what did you do to try and assist him?"

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm and brought her left hand to her mouth in surprise.

"How did you know that was me?" She exclaimed in horror while Severus smirked at her reaction.

"It is of no consequence _how _I know, Miss Granger. However, I think that knowledge confirms that I am who I appear to be, correct?"

"Are you alone?"

"I am."

"Why are you here?"

His eyes narrowed. Her tone was back to being sharp and business like. She was much harsher than he remembered.

"Why did you leave Hogwarts?" he asked, ensuring he sounded curious and not accusing.

"I asked first, Professor." She replied.

Severus realised a stalemate when he saw one. This was going nowhere fast, which was unfortunate. The whiskey with Minerva, although feeling like a lifetime ago, was now making him very tired. He was very much looking forward to sleeping in his new bed and wanted to be there as soon as possible. Although he was much more practiced in intimidation, he realised he needed a softer approach.

"Perhaps we could discuss further over the aforementioned cup of tea?"

She stared back at him although he was an alien species, not responding for some time. When she'd finally chosen her reply, Severus felt occlumency coming off her in waves, although he hadn't once tried to use legillimency on her.

"There's nothing here, I'm afraid. No kettle, no teabags. Nothing. Some other time perhaps."

Severus hadn't properly assessed the house, preoccupied on blocking her offensive spells as he entered. He took the opportunity to peer into the empty kitchen before turning his back on Hermione and viewing the rest of the vacant lower level of the property.

"Where are…" He began before being immediately cut off.

"Why are you here?" Hermione stowed away her wand so she could cross her arms.

Severus was taken aback. He was expecting tears and vulnerability, not hexes and this… well, feistiness.

"You are aware, Miss Granger, that there are several dozen people who are concerned for your welfare?"

"I didn't realise you were one of them." She replied with a raised brow.

"Quite. Professor McGonagall, however, is. I am here at her behest to persuade you to come back with me to the castle. It is her belief that you require a robust support network given your recent… well given recent events."

"I'm fine, thank you. You can tell Professor McGonagall that I'm in perfect health, both physical and mental. And I don't require Hogwarts to put a roof over my head, I've come home, you see."

"How strange, the Headmistress was quite sure you would want to return to complete your NEWTS."

Hermione's jaw clenched and nostrils flared, despite the calm tone she used. She'd be terrible at poker, Severus thought to himself.

"I'm sorry to disappoint her. I have other ideas, I'm afraid."

"And your next goal in life is to live here? Without a lick of furniture to sit on or so much as a teabag in your cupboards? Well I must advise your friends of this development, I'm sure they'd be more than willing to help assemble some flat packs for you."

He watched her blink several times without responding. They both knew she didn't want anyone knowing where she was. She was deciding whether to try and buy his silence or make a run for it again. She appraised him for a few more seconds before he spoke again.

"Look, just stop being so bloody prickly! I couldn't give two shits what trouble you've just gotten yourself into, or out of, for that matter. You're an adult now, live where you want, do what you want. I _really _don't care.

But we both know that if I go back too soon and without you in tow, you'll have half the bleeding hearts of the Order banging your door down trying to drag you back. So why don't you just kill a couple of hours with me and then we'll both be able to crack on with our lives, hmmm?"

She finally relaxed her stance at his words. Leaning on the worktop and looking out of the window, she let her shoulder sag and exhaled deeply.

"Fine, but I really don't have anything in. I wasn't expecting to host a tea party." She snapped before turning to him. She regretted her tone instantly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean… It's just been a long day. I was going out to get supplies actually; there's a Co-Op down the road – that's a little convenience store. Stay here if you like, I'll be back in a few."

Severus let the slight dig wash over him without further thought but smirked at her suggestion.

"Ahh yes, you'd hurry straight back, would you? Definitely wouldn't desert your old professor under the guise of fetching him some custard cremes? Pull the other one, Granger. I wasn't born yesterday. Come on, I'll accompany you. Get your coat."

She rolled at eyes, not expecting him to fall for ploy but annoyed all the same.

"Fine, come on then."

She stomped past him, stooping to snatch her beaded bag from where it lay on the floor. He noticed her cast a furtive glance at something shiny on the floor. He was trying to get a closer look before she moved suddenly and blocked his view.

"We may as well use the front door if we're going to walk. I don't know if there's anywhere close by that we can apparate to."

"After you, Miss Granger".

It was a ten-minute walk to the convenience shop. Hermione had many fond memories of taking this stroll with her father to fetch the morning papers. She'd never completed the journey in silence before though, and suddenly ten minutes seemed to last a life time.

She was hurrying to keep up with him, his legs being so much longer than her own took one step for every two or three of her own. However, with every passing minute, her annoyance was fading. She'd never have come shopping on her own, and she was practically salivating at the thought of food.

The deep voice of the man beside her suddenly caught her attention, breaking their silence.

"Miss Granger, is that the shop you're leading me to?"

She looked up and followed his gaze further down the street. Even from this distance she could see the red sign in the window stating, "Closed for Refurbishment". She stopped in her tracks and closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry in front of him. He didn't need to witness her unpredictable hormones turning her into a weeping mess. Just as she determined her eyes would remain dry, her stomach gurgled noisily. She opened her eyes and awaited an acerbic comment from the man before her.

Severus, for his part had been about to enquire where the next shop would be located when he turned to face her. She had stopped several paces behind him and looked utterly defeated. All her bravado had drained away; she suddenly looked very small and the bags under her eyes looked prominent in the glow of the streetlights. She had the air of someone who could not catch a break.

He thought about her sad, empty house with no furniture or food, or friends either. The memory of her lying on the floor of the hospital wing, clammy and shivering came unbidden to his mind. As she stood with her eyes closed for a couple of seconds, he was suddenly accosted by the memory of a former colleague announcing her pregnancy to the rest of the teaching staff. He had watched as colleague after colleague had hugged and congratulated her. It was a stark contrast to the situation before him.

He was not accustomed to feeling pity, and yet it was rolling over him in waves. As she opened her large brown eyes and looked up at him, he fought the urge to fold her into his arms and soothe whatever nightmare she'd faced.

"_Where the fuck had that come from?" _he thought to himself.

He cleared his throat and looked around the street. He caught her elbow and steered her across the road into an alleyway without speaking a word. She recognised his intent immediately and followed without complaint, automatically putting her hand onto his arm so he could apparate them both.

With a crack, they both disappeared.


End file.
